Save Yourself for Me
by sapphire-child
Summary: When Claire’s rescue helicopter turns out to be a ploy by a rogue medical team to do experiments on Aaron it’s up to Desmond and Juliet to save them for the real rescue. But they aren't the only 815 survivors being held captive... Written with pacejunkie
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Save Yourself for Me 1/3  
**Authors:** pacejunkie and sapphirechild  
**Characters:** Claire, Charlie, Desmond, Juliet  
**Spoilers:** up to the end of season three with some speculation for season four  
**Original post date:** 24/01/2008  
**Summary:** When Claire's rescue helicopter turns out to be a ploy by a rogue medical team to do experiments on Aaron, it's up to Desmond and Juliet to find out where she's being kept and to save them both for the real rescue. But Claire and Aaron are not the only flight 815 survivors who are being held hostage there…  
**Disclaimer:** Lost doesn't belong to us – but Charlie may as well do so near enough is good enough eh? We're not making any money, please don't sue us, thank you and enjoy.  
**A/N: **This started off as a bunny from sapphirechild but all too soon she lost her inspiration for it and came to her friend and fellow writer pacejunkie seeking help to get her groove back into the fic. Then, before we both knew it, it was a co-authored fic with a Desmond+Juliet side story! We hope that you enjoy it as much as we both enjoyed writing it :)

* * *

It hadn't been worth the cost. No helicopter in the world would be worth what this one had cost for Claire and Aaron to be on it. Charlie had paid for it with his life. She knew he had chosen it, but Claire wished she too had been granted the choice. She would have made a very different one.

And yet the choice was made, and there it was.

Three days after Desmond returned alone from the Looking Glass station the helicopter had arrived on the beach, just as he had seen and just as he had told Charlie it would. Desmond had also told Charlie that in order for Claire and Aaron to get on it, Charlie would have to die.

Charlie took Desmond at his word. And now he was gone.

She had cried for two days straight, finally taking in the sight of the helicopter with sore, red eyes and a pounding headache. She had wanted to scream at it, to tell it to go away and to hell with the bargain, but there was no undoing it. Now, Claire had to go or Charlie's sacrifice would have been for nothing.

It was the least she could do for him. She owed him that much.

In the end, she came to a kind of peace, knowing it was what Charlie wanted. She was on her way back to civilization and Aaron would have a chance at a normal life. She even smiled at the thought as she made her goodbyes to the others. The chopper pilots had come to report that rescue was coming for everyone, but for now they could accommodate one additional person. Would they take one and a half, Desmond had joked, and everyone had laughed for the first time since learning of Charlie's death. He knew they'd say yes, because he knew this was meant to happen. Claire hugged everyone, even Sawyer. Then she made her last farewells, boarded, and a sea of smiles lifted her and Aaron up into the clouds.

It was the happiest day of her life, but it would remain forever imperfect, like a diamond with a noticeable flaw. She wished Charlie were here to share it with her, but in a way he was, because he had made it possible.

"Where are you from miss?" asked the co-pilot once the island shrank from sight.

"Sydney," she replied.

"That's a lovely boy," he remarked, eyeing Aaron. "Was he born on the island?"

Claire looked down at Aaron who was slowly nodding off in her arms, lulled by the rhythmic sound of the engine and propeller. "Yes, he was."

"He must be very special," he said.

He smiled at her then, a strange expression on his face, and Claire wasn't quite sure how to respond. She told herself his remark was like any other compliment a new mother receives in the real world, although on the island, Claire knew that to be special carried dangerous connotations. She couldn't help it but the word chilled her and perhaps always would.

"Will it be a long trip?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Not long," he replied, turning back to the instruments, businesslike. "I suspect you'll be there before you know it."

Claire relaxed back into her chair and watched as the two pilots communicated to each other in a silent language of understanding. They worked in concert, each performing his task and then one would turn to the other with a questioning look and receive a nod. It continued that way for several minutes more. With the vast ocean before them and many miles to go, Claire wondered what they could be conferring over, when they suddenly hit what felt like an air pocket and jumped.

Claire gave a small yelp and gripped Aaron tighter. It was all too reminiscent of her last fateful flight and the memories came flooding back.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing to worry about," the co-pilot replied. "It's always bumpy on the trip out. You may want to try to sleep."

Claire didn't think she could possibly fall asleep under these conditions, and at any rate there was nothing strapping Aaron in and she didn't want him to roll from her arms. She was determined not to sleep.

"Asleep?" said Claire, "I don't think so, I'll be all right."

The pilot turned back to look at her, and any earlier trace of a smile was gone.

"Really, Claire," he said. "I think it would be best."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

Just then another bump larger than the first shook them. She gasped again and before she knew what was happening there was a hand covering her mouth with a cloth. An acrid scent rose from the cloth and burned in her nostrils. She tried to grab for it, to pull it away and then remembered Aaron.

_He must be very special._

Claire fought until her strength was drained by the drug. The helicopter was shaking madly now and she remembered the tail section of her plane being ripped away. She didn't know what was happening now but it was frightening her out of her wits.

_Oh God, please no_.

This wasn't rescue.

* * *

Had she been dreaming? Claire was lying down on a cold concrete bench, stirring but still disoriented. Slowly she remembered the helicopter, and for an instant wondered if that had been a dream as well. But as she opened her eyes and the iron bars of the cell came into focus, Claire knew that no dream could have deposited her in a place like this.

What she had experienced had been a nightmare.

She sat up quickly, a little too quickly and had to stop for a moment to recover from a dizzy spell that spun the cell she was in counter clockwise. Then she looked around the tiny space for her son.

All that was there was a tray with a sandwich, some fruit and a bottle of water.

Claire stood and went to the bars, looking out from between them. All she saw was a dim exterior and a door on the opposite side of the anteroom. It was as quiet as a crypt.

"Hey!" she cried out, "Can anyone hear me?"

When she heard no sound she called again, "Where's my son? I want my son!"

The silence combined with her captivity infuriated her, and she soon forgot her words and just started screaming in frustration, tears streaming down her cheeks. After a few minutes, her throat felt raw but she kept going, deciding that nothing short of exhaustion would stop her. She wanted their attention and she was going to get it. She fell to her knees, her screams transforming to cries of rage at life, at God, at whoever was responsible for this.

"Stop screaming would you?" came an irritated voice.

Claire looked up and gawked at the man who had invaded the room beyond her cell. He continued speaking as he entered fully.

"You've got no reason to be so upset," he said, striding further into the room. The door shut behind him with a resounding bang and he stepped right into the light, illuminating his face. "You're alive and you're safe – what else do you want?"

"Ch-Charlie?" Claire choked out, disbelieving.

He grimaced and then nodded.

He was so different to the way she remembered him. Gone were the jeans and scruffy blonde hair. He was wearing an oversize lab coat over black dress pants and a pale blue button down shirt. He seemed pale and tired and his hair had been cropped so short that almost all of his highlights were gone. Claire had never actually realised just how dark his hair actually was before.

"Charlie," she said again, this time with wonder as she pulled herself up and hurried to touch him, reaching through the bars and tugging desperately at his clothes, as if to reassure herself that he was really there. "Desmond told us that you died!"

As her words burst forth Charlie drew a plastic key card from his pocket and used it to open the cell door. When he stepped inside Claire forgot herself completely and buried her face in him, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in a relieved hug.

"I knew you weren't dead though -- I knew it!" she sobbed.

Charlie stood stiffly in her embrace until Claire released him. She stared at him in confusion.

"What happened to you Charlie?" she touched his face, hoping that he might lean in and kiss her and stop being so strange but instead he drew away from her touch. "What's wrong?"

"Maybe you should sit," was all he said, gesturing stiffly at the bench that Claire had woken up on.

As she stared at Charlie's blank face, Claire went suddenly very cold. What the hell was going on?

"I'd rather stand," she said stubbornly, "if it's all the same to you."

Charlie rolled his eyes at her. "Okay fine. Don't say that I didn't warn you."

He took a seat and then gestured at the untouched tray of food.

"Why didn't you eat this?"

"I didn't know where it came from," Claire said, crossing her arms uncomfortably. "Why would I eat it?"

"Because you're hungry," Charlie said simply.

"I'm not hungry." Claire's stomach gave a traitorous growl and Charlie smiled knowingly.

"Of course you aren't," he said condescendingly, then, "Are you sure that you don't want to sit?"

Claire considered for a moment and then finally she sighed and nodded. Charlie moved up the bench to make room for her. When she was seated Charlie pointed at the tray that still sat on her opposite side.

"I made that," he said. "So there's nothing wrong with it, unless you count my cooking."

The joke fell flat with the weight of bitterness. He sat expectantly, unsmiling, eyeing the food until Claire picked up a sandwich half and began to eat. When he was satisfied, he took a deep breath as if preparing himself for a long story. As he did Claire's mind ran wild and confused like a spooked deer.

_What could he possibly have to say that would explain all of this?_

* * *

"It's getting awfully quiet around here," muttered Hurley.

Desmond didn't respond. Since his return Hurley had taken to hanging around him nonstop, a very large but irritating shadow. At first the American was just distraught, seeking answers and comfort over the loss of his friend Charlie, and then after that he just wanted company. Claire's departure had only added to his loneliness. So Desmond tolerated him politely, feeling at least partly to blame for Hurley's solitude, although for reasons Desmond couldn't fathom it appeared Hurley blamed himself as well. If not for Desmond's vision Charlie and Claire might still be here, still stranded, but alive and together at least. He wasn't sure what role Hurley had played in what had happened, yet the first thing his friend had said when Desmond relayed the tragic news was, this was all my fault.

Desmond put it down to grief and didn't question, but that didn't stop Hurley embarking on his own third degree like a rapid fire assault. After he recovered from the initial shock, Hurley wanted to know exactly what Desmond had known and when he had known it. Desmond told him all that he could; it didn't matter anymore now anyway, there was nothing to gain in secrecy.

The damage was done.

They soaked up each other's guilt and misery like a swim in a toxic stew, maintaining a distance from the rest of the camp; most had moved on from the news as quickly as yesterday's gossip and were now preparing for their own rescues.

"Did I mention that Charlie left Aaron his ring?" Hurley asked Desmond as they sat on the beach. "Claire found it when she got back to camp. I think she had a feeling then that something happened. That was my first clue that Charlie knew. He did, didn't he?"

"Aye," sighed Desmond, tired of talking in circles.

Hurley went on, grabbing at conversational topics like they were a pile of sticks. "Claire must be almost to Fiji by now," he said, although Desmond was certain Hurley had no idea how far Fiji actually was.

After that Hurley said something else, but all Desmond heard was Claire and the rest was drowned out by screams. Desmond looked sharply at Hurley, but the young man was chattering on as if he hadn't heard them, and that was when Desmond knew that the screams were in his head.

"What is it, dude?" Hurley asked.

They were the screams of a young woman. He concentrated on them, trying to draw out the image. He saw Claire, dressed in the clothes she had left the island in, but she was trapped somewhere dark and empty. She was in tears, hysterical, screaming for Aaron. His mind's eye scanned the room, hoping to absorb as much detail as he could before it was gone in a flash -- an intercom, a camera, an all too familiar Dharma symbol from an unfamiliar station. Whatever it was it wasn't possible, couldn't be, because they had all seen Claire get on that helicopter.

Unless...

"Desmond?" said Hurley, turning white. "I was talking about Claire before you bugged out. Is it Claire? Is something gonna happen?"

Desmond waited until the vision had cleared completely before he spoke. "I think Claire might still be on the island," he said.

"What?" Hurley exclaimed. "How?"

Hurley got up and started following Desmond who was already heading across camp.

"I don't think that helicopter was rescue," Desmond called back. "I need to find Jack."

* * *

Charlie spoke for ten minutes straight, explaining everything – the station, his near drowning and waking up in the station where they both now were – but something was still missing, and only after he'd finished his story did Claire realize what it was.

Charlie was different – hardened, embittered. And with a shock, Claire realised that despite the fact that he was sitting beside her, speaking to her quite civilly, he was channelling this new bitterness towards _her_.

"Why are you upset with me?" she asked abruptly and Charlie looked immediately wary.

"I don't know what you're on about," he said evasively.

"Don't play that game with me," Claire snapped. "Why are you so angry at me?"

There was a long silence in which they glared at each other

"Because I was willing to die for you," Charlie said quietly, his voice chillingly cold. "When I came back…I began to realise just how much of an idiot I'd been," he shook his head, disgusted with himself. "Sacrificing my life for someone I barely even knew? For someone who wouldn't have done the same for me? I was so unbelievably stupid."

"How do you know I wouldn't have done the same?" Claire protested. "You never asked me! I promised you that if you ever needed me…"

"I did though," Charlie said flatly. "I needed you more than once Claire, and the only time you didn't run in the other direction was when you thought you might lose me for good."

"I only ran the first time because I didn't know if you'd been using or not! How could I be sure?"

"That wasn't the first time you ran from me," Charlie shook his head again, angrily. "And I thought you knew me better than that Claire."

"Well back then I didn't!" Claire shouted. "Look I'm sorry okay? I screwed up. I wasn't always there for you when you needed me. _But_, in my defence, you never bloody well _told_ me when you needed me!"

"You should have known!" Charlie said angrily. "You should have known that I needed you the same way that _I_ knew when you needed me! I always took care of you Claire and you never _once_ took care of me. That's why I went to my death – because I'd given up on us."

"I – you're lying!" Claire said, her throat dry as her heart hammered in her chest. "You loved me! That's why you went down to the bloody Looking Glass! You thought that Desmond's helicopter would save me and Aaron!"

"I'm not lying," Charlie said coldly. "I gave up on you ever loving me – I figured it'd be less painful for both of us if I just disappeared."

"How could you think that Charlie?" Claire whispered, horrified. "How could you even _think_ that?"

"Well you certainly never told me otherwise," Charlie scoffed. "What was I _supposed_ to think?"

"I…well…well…" Claire grasped at straws. "How come you made the Others save me when the helicopter crashed? They don't really need me, its Aaron they've always wanted…"

"It didn't crash. You were brought here for a reason. You're here for Aaron's sake," Charlie said flatly. "And because I honestly thought that you might be beneficial to their research. They've got a lot of questions for you."

Claire reeled back like she'd been slapped. Never before had she heard Charlie speak in such a clinical way – especially not to her.

"I'm helping them now," he said. "Aaron's the first baby to be born on this island and that makes him special. They'll want to examine you as well."

Claire stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You would help them experiment on Aaron?"

There was a flash in his eyes for an instant and Claire swore she saw regret, but he hid it again quickly. Still, when he spoke, his tone was a bit softer. He lowered his voice, conscious of the cameras and leaned in towards her.

"I'm doing everything I can to try and take care of him – waylaying tests, making sure they're safe," he looked at her and allowed the tiniest smile to claim his face, "I'm even singing to him to stop him from fretting at being away from you."

"I don't believe you," Claire said, tight lipped.

The smile faded and Charlie stood up. "Believe what you like Claire, but I'm doing my best to keep Aaron safe. You know that's all I ever wanted to do."

Claire would have believed that from the Charlie she once knew, but this one... she wasn't even convinced that this _was_ Charlie. Maybe he had really died and this was some imposter. Or maybe this was her Charlie but he was just being forced to do everything he was doing right now? She didn't believe for a minute that he was a willing participant in all this.

"Finish eating," Charlie said flatly from the doorway. "You're gonna need your strength."

Claire waited until he was gone before letting herself cry again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Save Yourself for Me 2/3  
**Authors:** pacejunkie and sapphirechild  
**Characters:** Claire, Charlie, Desmond, Juliet  
**Spoilers:** up to the end of season three with some speculation for season four  
**Original post date:** 27/01/2008  
**Summary:** When Claire's rescue helicopter turns out to be a ploy by a rogue medical team to do experiments on Aaron, it's up to Desmond and Juliet to find out where she's being kept and to save them both for the real rescue. But Claire and Aaron are not the only flight 815 survivors who are being held hostage there…  
**Disclaimer:** Lost doesn't belong to us – but Charlie may as well do so near enough is good enough eh? We're not making any money, please don't sue us, thank you and enjoy.

* * *

"Desmond, Claire's gone," said Jack. "We all saw her go."

"And I'm telling you she's still here," insisted Desmond. "_I_ saw her."

He didn't know how else to explain it. In very brief fashion he described the flashes he had been experiencing since the implosion of the Swan station. They were standing in a small circle, Desmond, Jack and Hurley. A few feet away outside of her tent stood Juliet. She and Jack had become inseparable and when Desmond asked for a moment of Jack's time, he stepped away from her but not far enough that she couldn't hear everything they were saying. Jack trusted the former Hostile implicitly and that made the rest of the camp nervous, even though Juliet had by now proven her loyalty.

"I saved Charlie's life four times over until I couldn't save him anymore," Desmond said, avoiding Hurley's sad face. "I saw every one of those deaths before they happened and now I'm seeing _this_. I know she's here, those people weren't who they said they were and now they've taken her and her little one. I just need to figure out where and we can save them."

Jack came over all sympathetic and put what was obviously intended to be an understanding hand on Desmond's shoulder. Desmond wanted to ask Hurley whether Jack treated everyone this way, like they were simple and he was all-knowing.

"Look," the doctor began, "I know Charlie's death was hard for you and that you did everything you could to prevent it, but believing you can now save Claire is not going to bring him back. And if you feel like you still have some sort of obligation to take care of Claire for Charlie..."

Desmond ignored his five cent psychiatry, because it was the only way he could keep himself from thumping him. Instead, he broke Jack off and pressed on, "It was a Dharma station Jack. It had a cell inside a room with bars and an intercom on the wall. She was lying on a bench in the cell next to a tray of food. She was crying and screaming out for Aaron."

Jack was still shaking his head when Juliet broke in.

"Jack, I think he may be right," she said.

Desmond looked up with hope at this stranger who had once been their enemy. "Do you know it?"

"I think I do," she said.

"Is he describing the Hydra?" Jack asked eagerly, trying to bring the conversation back to something that he knew and understood. "Where you kept me?"

"No," she said. "The place he's describing is definitely on this island though. I've seen it."

"Then it's true?" asked Hurley, dumbfounded. "Is Claire still here?"

"She could be," Juliet explained. "If that helicopter wasn't rescue then Claire and Aaron might have been taken to where many of the other children had gone, the ones we couldn't rescue."

"What do you mean?" asked Jack.

"As part of our research on the island's effects on growth and aging we were testing children," she explained, all in a rush. "We knew that pregnant women were dying but there were other things too. Children were showing certain abilities. For a while we tested them to understand where these abilities came from and how they could be controlled. Then eventually the deaths became our primary concern and Ben ordered that all other research be suspended until we could solve the problem of the pregnant women. There were some in our group that didn't agree with that decision and they continued testing the children in secret, in their own facility."

"So you think those men on the helicopter were part of that group?" asked Jack.

Juliet nodded. "And if I'm right then that means that Claire and Aaron may have been taken for tests."

"But Aaron's just a baby," Hurley said slowly. "Like, he doesn't have any special abilities. I mean, nothing besides projectile spit up and diapers the size of coconuts."

"What makes Aaron special is that he's a cross subject," Juliet explained. "He was born on this island and that makes him unusual enough, but if he should also turn out to possess some genetic abnormality that might explain the abilities that the other children have shown, he could be the key to it all. He might provide the answers they're looking for."

"Where is this station?" Desmond asked impatiently. "Can you take me there?"

Before Juliet could answer, they all turned at the sound of shouts from the beach. People were cheering and waving their arms in the direction of the ocean where a large ship was just appearing over the horizon.

"Rescue," said Hurley.

Jack turned to Juliet, "Is this really rescue, or are these more of your people?"

"They don't have a ship that large," she said, eyes as wide as the rest of the excited campmates. "When you made that call...this must be the real rescue Jack."

"I hate to spoil the party," Desmond interrupted. "But what about Claire?"

"Jack, you can't leave the beach now," Juliet said. "I'll take Desmond to the station and get Claire and Aaron back."

Jack nodded, and turned to Desmond, "If you're right about this, then you better come back with them. I'll hold the boat for as long as they'll let me."

"Aye, brother," said Desmond. "We'll get them back, I promise. Wait for us."

* * *

Charlie came back three hours later to remove her tray and bring another. He also carried a clipboard with him that he balanced carefully in one hand while he fished the key from his pocket and opened her cell with the other. Claire said nothing, she merely watched as he lay the tray down and then came over and sat beside her, taking a pen from the clipboard.

"I, uh, need to ask you some things," he said, "for them."

Claire just nodded, annoyed.

"They know almost everything from the files they have on us but they had some questions, you see and..."

"Just get on with it Charlie," she snapped. "Let's get it over with, shall we?"

"Right," he said. "When you had your car accident were you hospitalized?"

Claire blushed, disturbed that Charlie now knew so much about her while he was still an enigma and growing more mysterious all the time.

"No," she said.

"Any other hospital stays?" he asked. "For anything?"

"No," she answered, glaring. _Not even to give birth to my baby, the one who's now being kept from me_, she thought bitterly.

Charlie stopped for a moment to take some notes and Claire blurted out, "Take me to see him. I want to see my son."

Charlie stopped writing and looked up in surprise. He glanced almost imperceptibly at the surveillance camera and responded curtly to her demand.

"No," he said simply. "I can't do that. Now can we please get back to this? Do you have any incidences of cancer in your immediate family?"

"I'm not playing," said Claire angrily. "I'm not going to help you unless you help me."

"Claire…" Charlie began pleadingly.

"If you can't take me to him then bring him here," she said loudly, "I want to see him!"

"Claire, just calm down…"

"No! I won't!"

Charlie was looking more anxious, almost embarrassed, as though Claire were making a public scene. He lowered his voice to a whisper, "They're always watching me. I can't just let you out, you or Aaron. I'm just as trapped as you."

"Well at least you're not under lock and key," she spat. "You get to go places, do things...see my child."

Charlie sighed. "There are children on the island that can do special things and they're studying them. They think Aaron will help them because he was born here. It's mainly observation and some cognitive tests, nothing more invasive than taking blood and DNA samples, I promise you."

If his words were designed to put her at ease they were having the opposite effect. Claire was horrified, but instead of becoming hysterical again she decided to try a different angle. She knew Charlie still had feelings for her, or at least she wanted to believe that so much that she refused to consider any other truth. What Charlie was doing here, for them, it had to be bothering him.

Claire reached over and took Charlie's hand, drawing tiny circles on the back with her thumb.

"Charlie," she began, looking up at him demurely, "I know this must be hard for you. After all you were there when Aaron was born. You're like his father."

"Claire, don't," Charlie muttered, but he didn't pull his hand away.

"If you could do this for me," she whispered. "I might give you something in return that I know you've wanted for a long time…"

At those words Charlie did pull back. He sat up, seeing right through her ruse, and his eyes went cold.

"That's all changed now," he said. "I told you – I don't feel that way about you anymore."

She recovered quickly from the sudden rejection and asked him, "If that's true then why are you still bothering to look after Aaron?"

Charlie stood and walked to the door before answering her. "I love him more than I ever loved you because unlike Aaron, I knew that you would never love me back. I've given up on you Claire, but I could never give up on him. Not when I know that he loves me unconditionally and he always will."

Claire just stood there, too upset and angry to even argue. Charlie passed through the door and locked it again and then turned back to her one last time and pointed to his clipboard.

"We'll finish this later," he said flatly.

He didn't return for the remainder of the day.

* * *

"Would you mind if I asked you about your flashes?" Juliet asked Desmond the moment they had set out on their journey.

"Why?" he asked warily.

"I'm a biomedical researcher," she said smiling, "I can't help it. It's my nature to be curious about things."

Desmond softened. "All right then. What do you want to know?"

"Did you have this ability before you came to the island? Or anything at all like it really. Any premonitions or things like that?"

"Not even a trick knee," he said, "Although my mum could always tell when I was lying. Perhaps it runs in families."

Juliet laughed. "You're not being serious."

Desmond stopped walking and his face darkened.

"I saw a young man with a girlfriend and a future die a half dozen violent ways until one day he drowned right in front of me," he said. "This is no laughing matter."

Juliet dropped her eyes. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Look, I wish I could tell you more," Desmond sighed. "But all I know is that I woke up after the hatch imploded and I was back in London living my life over. It's like I know what's going to come because I've been there before."

Juliet nodded and they walked on in silence for a bit until she said, "There are children I've seen with abilities similar to yours. They'd warn us about things – sometimes a touch or a smell could trigger it off. Is it like that with you?"

Desmond was shocked. It hadn't occurred to him that the island might be behind what had happened to him and that others might have experienced it too. The way everyone at the beach treated him he had assumed that he was the only one.

"I don't know what triggers it," he said. "It starts like a feeling of déjà vu and then I start seeing things. Do you know how to make it stop?"

"No," she said. "But they might where we're going."

* * *

Claire didn't see Charlie again until the next day. He strode back into her cell with a breakfast tray and the clipboard.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he began in a clipped voice. "I was hoping that maybe we could just put it behind us because we still need to get these questions done. They're going to keep sending me back here until you cooperate."

His shield was back up again. He sat beside her again, pen poised, reviewing his notes as Claire glumly sat up and slumped against the wall, offering only a muted "okay."

After their conversation the day before Claire had spent the hours alternately pacing her cell angrily or huddled up in a ball crying. Despite her stubbornness, she was beginning to accept that what they had once had together had gone – at least for Charlie. Without that last shred of hope she had decided that there was little left fighting for. Her only concern now was to make sure that Aaron stayed safe, and if that meant cooperating, then she would give them what they wanted.

"Were your parents married?" Charlie asked, trying to capture her attention.

"Uh, no," she said vaguely. "I never knew my father. Well, I remember meeting him just once, but I didn't really know him."

"Did either of your parents have any other children?" he asked as he looked down, scribbling away.

"I think my father did, but I'm not sure. He said he had another family."

Charlie nodded and wrote some more. Then suddenly he muttered so quietly she almost missed it.

"Do you want to see Aaron?"

Claire was so shocked she nearly asked him to repeat it, but she stopped herself quickly because she knew that someone might be listening. She simply stared and waited for his eyes to come up from his notes and meet hers. When he did, she held her breath and gave a tiny nod. Even still, she waited, not quite sure whether to believe him. Then suddenly he rose, unlocked her door and stood there waiting for her to join him. Claire got up and followed him out of the cell, her heart racing.

Charlie poked his head out into the hallway and looked left and right. When he was satisfied the coast was clear he stepped out into the open and Claire followed, stepping lightly. At the end of the hall he stopped where there was a large glass window looking into a room.

Claire looked in and gasped at Aaron sleeping peacefully in a crib. He was wearing a one piece sleeper and looked very comfortable. She pressed her palms against the glass, smiling at the sight but her arms felt incredibly empty and all at once she wanted to hold him.

"Open the door," she told Charlie. "I want to go in."

"I agreed to let you _see_ him, not hold him," he said, his eyes darting up and down the quiet corridor.

She should have been happy but being so close to Aaron and then being told that she couldn't hold him was doing nothing but making her angry. Who was he to dangle her child in front of her like this, teasing her? Her hands darted out and she went for Charlie's lab coat, digging, looking for his keys. Charlie stepped back and spoke in a harsh whisper.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he hissed and grabbed her wrists. "If I let you go in there then we're both going to get into huge amounts of trouble!"

"I don't care," Claire cried out, tears beginning to slide down her cheeks. "What could they possibly do to me to make my life any more miserable?"

Charlie looked so skittish that Claire didn't know if she had gotten through to him or if he was simply afraid of getting caught out in the hall, but after a moment of contemplation, he removed the key from his pocket and ushered her through the door, closing it behind them hurriedly. Claire burst into tears and ran to the crib, picking up her son and laying him over her shoulder. Aaron stirred just a bit and then fell comfortably back to sleep in his warm familiar spot. She swayed and hummed, blocking out every unpleasantness as Charlie stood watch at the window.

"Claire, that's enough now, we need to go," he said nervously.

Claire shook her head and held her son tighter, inhaling his scent, kissing his neck lightly.

"Claire I mean it," Charlie said, slightly sharper this time. "Put Aaron back in the crib."

"I said before that I don't care," she answered him finally, feeling smugly self righteous. "What can they do to me?"

"It's not _you_ that I'm worried about," he said anxiously, and when Claire looked at him she saw real fear in his eyes. "I'm worried about what they'll do to _me_."

Claire stared at him for a moment, not understanding, then everything clicked very audibly into place and she felt a wave of horror wash over her when she realised that once again she had put her own needs before that of a man who had died – not once – but twice to protect her. A man who she had promised to take care of – to stick with to the bitter end…

A shame filled blush exploded in her cheeks. "Charlie," she gasped. "I'm so…I didn't even…I never even _thought_ about..."

Charlie merely shrugged but Claire could tell he was worried. The knowledge that she had caused that fear to be put into him made her feel even worse. The guilt was making her feel almost sick to the stomach.

Knowing that she had precious little time as it was, Claire held her son close to her face, burying her self loathing in his sweet, milky scent. She closed her eyes and breathed in one more time and for a single, blissful moment she almost felt whole again. Then she was returning him to the crib and turning to Charlie.

"I'm sorry for wasting so much time. You'd better take me back before I get you into any more trouble."

Charlie led her quickly back to her cell, his brow furrowed. When he opened the iron door he looked almost apologetic, but relieved at the same time.

"I'm…sorry I couldn't give you much time with him," he murmured.

"I was just so glad that I got to see him at all," Claire admitted and then reached out to touch his arm without even stopping to think about it. "Thank you so much Charlie. Really."

"That's okay," Charlie mumbled, pulling back carefully from her hand as though it were painful for him to have her touch him.

"Why'd you let me in anyway?" Claire asked. "If you knew that they'd see us? If you knew that they'd punish you?"

A strange expression flickered on Charlie's face then and – as if by impulse – he took one of her hands, very gently, in his own. Claire looked down in surprise and then met his eyes again.

Charlie's eyes were pained as he stared back at her, his mouth working silently as he tried to find the right words to explain to her what he was thinking.

"Claire," he whispered and goose bumps ran up and down her arms at the barely suppressed emotion in his voice. A moment's pause later, as though it had a mind of its own, Charlie's free hand moved to touch her cheek.

Claire stopped breathing.

Was it possible that in order to protect her that Charlie had lied to her about his feelings? Was he really still in love with her?

"Charlie," she finally breathed out, not even sure what she was about to say but then Charlie leant forward by a fractional amount, licking his lips tentatively and his eyes were fluttering shut and his hand was still on her cheek and so Claire pulled in a short, shaky breath and leant up on tiptoe to meet him…

An angry shout made the two of them leap apart. Claire barely had time to register the presence of three men who were barrelling through the outer room until they were upon them.

One of them grabbed Charlie and pulled him back while another gave Claire a solid backhand that had her stumbling into her cell.

"Sam, wait!" pleaded Charlie, but the largest of the three men pushed him in after her.

Claire pressed a trembling hand to her stinging cheek and her heart dropped as the man called Sam curled his massive hands into fists and stepped through the doorway too.

Charlie had landed sprawled on the floor but when he saw his attacker coming for him he immediately sprang to his feet. Sam punched him square in the jaw and Charlie went down again like a ton of bricks. His attacker then all but fell on him, pinning his arms to his sides with his knees.

And then he began to hit him.

Claire screamed at first, tears pouring uncontrollably down her face as she begged for Sam to stop. Charlie meanwhile was all but silent as he took his blows – clearly he had done this before. Despite how terrified she was for him, eventually Claire took his lead and merely sobbed quietly, her fingernails digging into the side of her face every time a fist made contact with Charlie's face.

"Stop," she begged in a breathless whimper. "Oh please…"

When Charlie's face was covered in blood, Sam stood, breathless, examining his bloody, grazed knuckles as he did so with obvious distaste. He stood for a moment, watching Charlie with a sort of detached interest. Charlie took advantage of the momentary reprieve to roll onto his side and spit out a mouthful of blood, his breathing laborious as he rolled onto his back again. Claire was still sobbing quietly in the corner, clutching at her face when Sam turned his attention to her.

He smiled at her and Claire felt a chill crawl up her spine. Sam took a step closer to Charlie, his eyes still on Claire, and he raised his booted foot.

A split second later, Claire realised what he was going to do and she launched herself onto her feet, crying out as her hands balled themselves into ineffectual fists. A surge of fury swept through her.

"Stop it!" she shrieked as she rushed towards Sam who wasted no time in beginning to kick Charlie's ribs, a wide grin on his face. "No! Don't hurt him! Hit me!"

Claire pounded against Sam's heavily muscled arms with her small hands but he pushed her aside as easily as if he'd just waved a fly away. Claire all but flew into the wall and her shoulder exploded with pain, but Sam was still kicking Charlie and Claire instinctively returned to the fray, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as she threw herself onto the ground and shielded Charlie's prone form with her own body.

There was a tense silence.

"Move," Sam said coldly.

"No," Claire clung even tighter to Charlie and she heard him pull in several short, painful breaths beneath her.

"Move," Sam said again.

"No!" Claire said again, more forcefully. "I won't let you hurt him! Go away!"

"If you don't move…" the threat was left hanging but Claire merely huddled closer over Charlie. She could still feel his anxious breathing against her skin, the stickiness of his blood on her fingers where she was touching his face. The coppery tang of it filled her senses and made her feel sick.

"Claire," Charlie breathed suddenly. "Don't…"

"I can't," she whispered back.

And then Claire Littleton shut her eyes and braced herself for the kick that would shatter her fragile ribs...

There was a long moment of silence, a quiet scoffing noise, and then the door slammed shut on them.

When Claire finally dared meet Charlie's eyes, there was wonder on his battered face.

"You…" he began through swollen lips and then he paused to spit out another mouthful of blood. "Why would you do that? He could have so easily killed you!"

Claire's eyes flooded.

"I couldn't watch him hurt you anymore," she choked. "I couldn't do it."

"I still don't understand…" Charlie whispered faintly. "Why you…?"

His voice was fading now, his eyelids drooping perceptively. Claire's own adrenaline stores seemed to be depleted too. She curled into his side and let her head rest on his shoulder, feeling suddenly so bone weary that her eyes fell shut of their own accord.

"Claire…" he breathed. She felt his fingertips touch her face and then fall away. Beside her, his body relaxed into unconsciousness.

"Charlie," she whispered back. And then she too fell into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Save Yourself for Me 3/3  
**Authors:** pacejunkie and sapphirechild**  
Characters:** Claire, Charlie, Desmond, Juliet  
**Spoilers:** up to the end of season three with some speculation for season four  
**Original post date:** 28/01/2008  
**Summary:** When Claire's rescue helicopter turns out to be a ploy by a rogue medical team to do experiments on Aaron, it's up to Desmond and Juliet to find out where she's being kept and to save them both for the real rescue. But Claire and Aaron are not the only flight 815 survivors who are being held hostage there…  
**Disclaimer:** Lost doesn't belong to us – but Charlie may as well do so near enough is good enough eh? We're not making any money, please don't sue us, thank you and enjoy.

* * *

Claire came to with a tremble of fingertips against her cheekbone. A quick glance at her surroundings showed her that she had fallen asleep – or had she passed out? – on Charlie's shoulder.

He smiled at her, split lip and all when she met his eyes and then he moved his hand from her cheek to her shoulder.

He looked terrible. His face was covered in dried blood and one of his eyes was so swollen that he could hardly see out of it.

"Oh Charlie," she breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"Its fine," he said dismissively but Claire could see the pain in his eyes. "Don't suppose you could take your lovely head off my shoulder though could you?" Claire moved immediately, feeling horribly guilty when Charlie hissed in pain. "Not that I don't like being cuddled into by a gorgeous woman," he said, "but my ribs are bloody sore."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Even when you're in pain you still have the energy to be an idiot," she said.

"You think I'm an idiot?" Charlie asked, his voice surprisingly harsh. Claire frowned at him, rebuked.

"No," she amended. "I didn't mean that. I don't know why I said it."

Charlie sighed, appeased.

"You're right. Only because I've been in worse scrapes than this. Hell," he chuckled. "I've died – what, twice now? I've beaten fate, gone through heroin withdrawal with only a handful of aspirin to help, nearly been eaten alive by a monster…"

"You must be about to run out of lives," Claire observed and Charlie chuckled again before wincing and rolling over to spit out more blood. "Oh Charlie…"

"I'll live," he insisted. "I promise."

* * *

The station was far, and they had had to camp for the night. The next day it was just a short journey and they were there. It was an aboveground structure with a central entrance and two wings. Desmond watched from the bushes and drew his gun.

"I think you should put that away for now," Juliet suggested. "If I'm right about these people then they're short staffed and they won't be expecting us. I'll probably be able to talk us inside."

Desmond agreed and slipped the gun in the waistband of his jeans. "So do we just knock on the front door then?"

"Maybe they'd like to buy a magazine subscription?" Juliet joked and together they rose and went to the door. She opened it and they stepped inside. A man stood there, with a bandaged hand and a surprised expression.

"Juliet?" he said. "What are you doing there?"

"Ben sent me," she said.

"Who's he?" the man asked, jerking his head at Desmond.

"This is Desmond," she said. "He has a gift Sam – one that might interest you."

Desmond held his breath and tried not to look taken aback, but for an instant he was afraid. He wondered if this Juliet could be trusted after all or had she just handed him over to her people. In silence he stood, trying to determine his next move and decide whether to reveal he was armed.

"Does he now?" Sam said, suddenly interested.

He came closer and Desmond's hand crept to his back, but just before his fingers found his gun, Juliet put her hand up to stop Sam. "Not yet. Ben brought us here to deal. There's something you have that he wants."

"And what's that?" Sam asked. Desmond dropped his hands again to his sides.

"You're keeping Claire Littleton here and her son Aaron. You had no right to take them. They're part of Ben's research and he wants them back."

"Now why would we do that," asked Sam, "when we need her too?"

"Because Desmond here can see the future," Juliet said. "And if you give us Claire and Aaron, he'll submit to be tested."

* * *

They were sitting together on the floor but Charlie was having a hard time getting comfortable. He kept shifting and wrapping an arm around his ribs where they were sore. Claire watched him fidget and then spat on the sleeve of her jacket and scrubbed at some of the blood on his face. Charlie groaned and ducked his head.

"Christ Claire…I know you're a mum but do you have to do that to me? It's hardly dignified."

"Just tidying you up a bit," Claire said defensively. "You could use it!"

Charlie grumbled under his breath as Claire continued to clean the worst of the blood off his face but soon enough the grumbling gave way to winces of pain whenever she found a tender spot. There seemed to be a lot of them.

"I want to ask you something," she said presently, "Why did you let me in to see Aaron if you knew that you were going to get in so much trouble for it?"

Charlie looked away. "I didn't do it for you, I did it for Aaron. I could tell he missed you."

"No you didn't," said Claire, shaking her head, "I don't buy that at all Charlie."

"Well, you asked," he said defensively. "Sorry if you don't like the answer." He shifted a little, winced, and then subtly tried to change the subject. "I might lie down flat again."

"Here…" Claire helped him slowly lower himself back down to the floor.

Charlie sighed in relief. "That feels a little better. I might end up choking on my own blood but at least my ribs don't hurt."

"I've got another question for you," Claire piped up after a moment or two of silence, "if you don't mind me asking that is."

"Sure," Charlie said, eyes closed. "It's not like I've got anything better to do. I don't even know if I can move to be honest."

"Outside in the hallway," Claire began slowly. "When you brought me back here again you…"

She paused when Charlie sighed in anticipation of her question.

"You were going to kiss me," Claire said, all in a rush.

"That's not really a question Claire," He murmured.

"Fine," she said stiffly. "Were you about to kiss me outside before they came?"

Charlie sighed more heavily – defeated. He opened his eyes.

"Fine. Yes," he admitted. "Yes I was going to kiss you. Are you happy?"

"Why?" Claire pressed. "You told me that you didn't think about me like that anymore!"

Charlie took a breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"Falling in love with you was easy," he explained slowly, "almost too easy. But trying to fall _out_ of love with you – on _purpose_?" he shook his head. "That was next to impossible."

"What are you saying?" she asked, dumbfounded. "Do you mean..."

"I love you. I could never have _stopped_ loving you Claire. I'm sorry I had to lie to you – I never wanted to hurt you the way I have since we came here. But I couldn't let on because I knew they'd use it against me. I just wanted to keep you both safe."

"Charlie," she said, smiling. "I knew it."

"No you didn't," he grinned lopsidedly at her. "You've never been very good at figuring out when I was lying to you."

"Well you're a good liar," she noted.

"It's something I'm not particularly proud of but it does come in handy," Charlie joked weakly. "From time to time, you know."

Pushing himself up with one elbow, he tried to sit up again but the pain in his ribs was too much. Groaning, he lay back down, frustrated.

"This is bollocks!" Charlie complained. "I _finally_ get the chance to tell you that I'm in love with you and I can't even bloody well _kiss_ you without being in excruciating amounts of pain!"

"Then let me," Claire whispered and she leant down to touch her lips to Charlie's. She could taste the blood that had stained his mouth, the faint remnants of his last meal as she deepened it slightly but when she did Charlie tensed and pushed her gently away.

"No," he said. "You're probably just feeling sorry for me."

Claire sighed and sat back up again. "Charlie, when Desmond told me that you had died so that Aaron and I could be rescued…I felt so empty. It was all wrong; we needed you in our lives, a part of our lives. I don't want you to hurt yourself anymore for us Charlie. I want to be the one to save you and keep you safe."

This time Charlie didn't resist when Claire moved closer. He fell apart beneath her as she kissed him, like the meat on an over stewed mutton bone. His muscles relaxed at her touch – It was the most incredible sensation that Claire had ever experienced.

"I love you," she whispered breathlessly against his lips. "I love you Charlie Pace and nobody is ever going to hurt you again because of me. I promise."

Charlie sighed, long and low, and then kissed her again, softly.

"God," he murmured. "It feels like I've been waiting just about forever for you to say that. Now I'll let you look in my pocket."

"What?"

"Just do it," he said. "The right pocket in my coat, but be careful, the walls have eyes."

Claire leaned over and opened the pocket of the lab coat and looked inside to find what Charlie knew the man that had beaten him bloody had forgotten about.

The key card was still in there.

* * *

Sam left to pass Juliet's proposal on to the others and as soon as he was gone Desmond hissed at her.

"What the bloody hell are you up to?" he said. "I'm not letting them put a hand on me."

"Trust me," she said. "I won't leave without you. Just keep them distracted and answer their questions while I get Claire and Aaron. They'll be so interested in you we'll be able to walk right out of here without firing a shot."

Juliet didn't know what Desmond had been thinking, but they only had one gun and a one man commando troop wasn't much of a plan. She knew he would realize that there was no other option but to listen to her.

"Fine," he said. "But find them quickly and let's get the hell out of here."

Sam returned with another man and they were instructed to follow. They led Desmond to an examination room.

"You have thirty minutes," Juliet said, "he'll tell you anything you want to know. After that we take Claire and Aaron and we leave."

The man nodded and Desmond went into the room, giving Juliet one last look. Juliet passed him a look of reassurance and went with Sam towards the holding areas. He opened a door and they entered into a smaller anteroom. Juliet looked around and finally at the smaller room within.

But all that lay before them was an empty cell with the door wide open.

* * *

He was in her arms again, back where he belonged. Claire clung to Aaron as she and Charlie raced down the halls, looking for a way out. She could tell that Charlie was in terrible pain by the way he was lumbering along like Quasimodo but she still had to keep up with him. They listened for sounds and peeked around corners, hoping like mad to avoid being seen.

They came to the end of a corridor when they heard shouts back in the direction of their former cell.

"They're gone!"

"Find them!"

Claire gasped and Charlie grabbed the handle of the nearest door. Flinging it open he pushed her inside and then followed. He shut the door again and collapsed against it, nursing his ribs, feeling sharp pains with every breath. Charlie hadn't even turned around yet when he heard a surprised voice in a clear Scottish accent.

"_Charlie_?"

It was Desmond, but he wasn't alone. One of the other men was with him. Before the man could react however, Desmond regained his wits enough to pull out his gun and point it at him.

"You're going to let us go," Desmond ordered him, and then keeping his eye trained on the man he called over his shoulder. "Charlie is that really you?"

"Yeah, Des," Charlie wheezed, "It's really me. But I don't think now's a good time to explain how..."

"You're right, brother," Desmond said decisively. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

"Don't worry," Juliet assured Sam. "We'll find them. You were handing them over to us anyway. They're Ben's problem now. They won't get far."

"Her friend was with her," Sam told her. "Pace. He was working for us, but he helped her escape. We caught him earlier taking her in to see her kid. I gave it to him good too."

Juliet stared, confused. "Charlie Pace?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure," said Sam. "We fished him out of the underwater station. He was supposed to put Claire at ease while we worked with Aaron. I tell you though – the guy knows how to take a beating. If he walked out of here he couldn't have been moving all that fast."

"Okay, thanks," said Juliet, "we'll take it from here."

Desmond was nowhere to be found so Juliet casually walked from the station and back out into the jungle. When the station could no longer be seen she stopped and listened for a sign.

"Desmond?" she called.

"Over here," he responded.

A few yards away in the bushes they sat in a huddle – Desmond, Claire, Aaron...and Charlie. Desmond and Claire were smiling from ear to ear. Sam was right; Charlie had taken quite a beating. He was holding his chest, pulling short painful breaths. Juliet was surprised he had made it this far.

She knelt down and as gently as she could she prodded his ribs. She stopped when she thought he couldn't take anymore. "You have at least one cracked rib, maybe two," she informed him. "There's not much I can do for it, and we'll have to take our time going back. Make sure you don't bend or lift anything."

"I don't think that will be a problem," Charlie said, wincing. "I don't feel quite up to chopping wood at the moment."

"No, it won't be a problem," said Claire, "because I'm going to help you."

"We'll all help," said Desmond, giving Charlie a hand up. "We've got a rescue boat to catch."

"Rescue?" Charlie said, amazed. "I can't believe it! Des, you said I had to die for rescue to come!"

"That was what I thought," he said, "but thank God I was wrong. You were supposed to do what you did so that you, Claire and Aaron could all be rescued together."

Juliet offered to hold Aaron as they walked. She led the way back to the beach and they started off. Charlie smiled, and with Claire on one side of him and Desmond on the other, the future was turning out to be a dream come true.


End file.
